When Paragon felt his grief turn to rage, he took to the air, and followed the crimson trial south towards Durban, hoping he would find her before it was too late.
When he reached the north gate of the town, his worst fear was quickly realized when he saw Silverwing's lifeless body propped up on a large stone for all to see. It was an infuriating sight, not only had they murdered her, but they had had the audacity to put her on display as if she were a trophy. As hard as it was for him to do, he put his rage aside, and flew down to retrieve her body. She was a dragon, a creature of nobility, and she deserved a proper burial. When the townsfolk saw him approaching, they rushed to get their weapons, but he was already back in the air before they could mount a response. As he flew off, he could hear them cheering as if they had scared him away. Little did they know he would return to exact his revenge once Silverwing was laid to rest.
As he flew up the coast with Silverwing in his talons, he gently nuzzled her lifeless body. She was the one thing in his life that he loved more than anything, and he couldn't believe she was gone. Why the savages felt the need to kill her was beyond reason or explanation. The hill country was not even their land, and dragons had only tolerated their intrusion on it because there was plenty of game to go around. If this was how they were going to repay the favor, then Paragon felt it was time for them to see what the wrath of a Fire Dragon looked like. Then they would know that the penalty for killing a dragon is death by fire.
When Paragon spotted a secluded meadow with a view of the ocean, and the Windstone Mountains, he gently set Silverwing down in it. Then he went into the nearby woods and gathered up some wood for a pyre. Once he was done preparing it, he placed Silverwing's body on top of the tender, and lit it with his fire. As the flames consumed her, he said a few words to honor her memory. She was the one and only dragon that had ever understood him, and now that she was gone, all that remained was hatred and revenge for those who had done this. He had never killed a human before, but whatever tiny amount of respect or reverence he felt for them was in the past, erased the instant they had hurt his beloved mate.
After the wood had turned to ash, he rolled in the embers until his wings turned gray. It was a symbolic gesture meant to honor the departed, and to signify to other dragons that he was in mourning. He knew his kin wouldn't see him since they lived so far away, but he wanted to follow the tradition just the same.
Once he was done paying his respects, he took to the sky and headed straight towards Durban. If they thought he was afraid of them because they had slain a Fire Dragon, they were grossly mistaken. He knew they had taken Silverwing by surprise, and undoubtedly shot her before she could protect the small area near her rear legs where the scales were thin. It was the only place an arrow could penetrate a dragon's nearly impervious armor.
When the residents saw Paragon circling their town, they gathered in the streets and readied their weapons. Emboldened by their recent kill, they knocked their arrows and waited for him to come into range. The moment he dove from the sky, they released their bowstrings sending a volley of arrows towards him. Paragon immediately clinched his legs together and drew in a deep breath of air in preparation for the attack. When the arrows struck his armored hide, they shattered upon impact, and rained down from the sky. When the men saw their arrows disintegrate, they ran for cover, but it was too late, and he incinerated then in the streets. The few savages that survived his initial attack fled into their homes, certain that they would be safe behind their walls of brick and stone. Little did they know that the angrier the dragon, the hotter the flame, and he turned their shelters into pools of molten slag. As their cries for mercy echoed through the smoke filled air, he folded his ears back and continued the onslaught. Even though he did not consider himself to be a merciless killer, there would be no compassion or forgiveness for those who had killed his mate. His flames would punish them all.
Once Paragon had destroyed the heart of Durban, he headed towards the outskirt of the town to torch what was left. Anyone unlucky enough to get in his way was turned to ash. He was so intent on scorching every last inch of their wretched town, that when he saw a neglected ally lined with shanties he flew towards it, nostrils flared. Just as he was about to let loose with another round of fire, a young girl ran out into the street waving a dragon shaped doll high over her head. Stunned by what he saw, he flew past her, temporarily holding back his rage. He knew that humans sometimes offered animals as sacrifices to dragons and other creatures they feared, but this was unlike anything he had ever seen or heard before. Not only was the offering a silly dragon doll, but it was being offered to him by a young child, of all things. Unsure of what to make of strange event, he circled back around to take another look. As he flew towards the little girl, she tossed the dragon doll high into the air, intent on him catching it. Her aim was true, and the doll landed right in his talons as he sailed over her head. When he looked back, the girl waved at him and smiled. He had never seen anything like it. She actually seemed pleased that he had unwittingly accepted her offering. As he circled the street she was on several more times, she followed his every move across the sky, seemingly in awe of his presence. He didn't understand why she had no fear of him, but her act of bravery and the innocent look in her eyes touched a part of him that no arrow ever could. He had never felt empathy, or compassion for a human before, but for whatever reason, he could not ignore or explain what he felt, and he broke off his attack and headed home.
As he flew towards the Windstone Mountains, he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. Why the little girl was unafraid of him was as perplexing as her actions. Her demeanor and the way she looked at him with such reverence didn't make sense either. It was almost as if she knew him even though they had never met. As he tried to figure out why she acted the way she did, he glanced down at the doll and noticed it was well-used, which seemed odd. He knew that children were taught to fear dragons, so it seemed unlikely that they would own or play with a toy that looked like one. Not only that, but an offering was meant to appease the recipient, and the giver would not risk offending a dragon with something that was used or defective. Yet the doll was worn, and looked like it had been played with for many years. As he tried to figure it out, he suddenly realized that what he had assumed was an offering to quell his rage, was actually a gift given to him not out of fear, but out of love. It didn't make any sense, but no other explanation seem to fit the girl's peculiar gift, or her unusual actions. She clearly wanted him to have the toy, and she had seemed happy once he had taken it. He had never considered the possibility that a human might actually like dragons, but why else would she have had a dragon doll in the first place? The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. The one thing he couldn't reconcile was why the doll looked exactly like him right down to the gold-tips on his dark-blue wings. The only way she could have known what he looked like was if she was a seer, but that was the rarest of gifts and he doubted a human child would be graced with it. As he tried to come up with a more probable explanation, a shiver suddenly ran down to his tail. He knew that dragons often shared a connection with one another through the ethereal realm, but it was unheard of in lesser creatures. The unspoken and unseen force of nature allowed dragons glimpses of future companions or mates so they could bond with each other even before they met. The very notion that fate would connect two dissimilar creatures in such a way was absurd, and he immediately rejected the idea even though he could not come up with a better explanation for how she could have know what he looked like.
When he arrived back in his cave, he headed into the depths to soak in the hot spring that made his den so unique. Its warm effervescent waters filled the lower chambers of the cave creating a series of pools that he frequently basked in. It was his own private refuge, and even though he was a Fire Dragon he loved the water. Silverwing rarely went into the spring, but she had liked the warmth it provided and had always stayed close by when he went swimming in it. Now that she was gone, the hot spring was the only thing in the world that took some of his pain away. Its soothing waters relaxed his tired wings, but it did little to alleviate the emptiness he felt in his heart and soul. He was lost without his mate and he would have done anything to bring her back. 2